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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24336169">The Trial of the Medallion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anoke/pseuds/Anoke'>Anoke</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Some Fucking *Bullshit* [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen to Fingernails, Broken Bones, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Lambert's backstory is depressing as hell you guys, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Psychological Trauma, a teeny tiny bit of comfort, blatant overuse of m-dashes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:49:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,483</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24336169</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anoke/pseuds/Anoke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Old Speartip is one deep sleeper; wake him up and you'll sleep deeper.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Some Fucking *Bullshit* [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755709</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>146</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Trial of the Medallion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Right, quick note: if you don't know what a compound fracture is, it's a broken bone complete with a laceration in the overlying skin, generally exposing the bone. They are nasty, and there's a brief mention of one in this story while Lambert's having a mini-flashback. The mention is in the same line as "Not to mention that Old Speartip's riled. You have any desire to try and deal with that?" and it's done the next line down.</p><p>Lambert also wrecks his nails clawing at the ground, but it's not described in any great detail.</p><p>And oh yeah. Bunch of teenagers get bashed to death by a cyclops. (insert Stanley from Terry Pratchett's Going Postal: <i>his head was all over the wall!</i>)</p><p>Other miscellaneous notes: I did not have the brilliant/s idea of calling the other Wolf Witcher from Betrayer Moon Remus, that was listed as his name in the credits.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Volthere, don't—" Lambert said, trying to grab the back of his gambeson.</p><p>"I can't not," he said, and ran, light-footed, over to Travan, whose leg was clearly broken.</p><p>Lambert had gone over it in his head hundreds of times. If he'd managed to grab Volthere. If he'd gone with him and helped him haul. If, if, if. If he'd been <i>better</i>.</p><p>Instead, it went down like so:</p><p>Old Speartip finished turning Harja and his friends into paste, far too soon. </p><p>The monster turned, and saw Volthere hauling Travan over to the wall. It crossed the distance in two long strides, and Lambert screamed, "<i>HEY MOTHERFUCKER!!</i>" at the top of his lungs, voice cracking, and fumbled in his pouch for a bomb.</p><p>The monster turned its head to look at him, and Lambert threw.</p><p>The bomb got the cyclops dead-on, but it didn't make the monster lumber over to him immediately, like he'd wanted it to.</p><p>It turned back to Volthere and Travan. There was a faint glimmer that might have been a Quen shield. A fist came down. Most of Lambert's brain fuzzed into static.</p><p><i>Nobody lives through having all their brains splattered across a wall</i>, said his fucking self-preservation from the ringing white void of his mind.</p><p>Old Speartip lifted his hand, and Lambert, pupils blown as wide as they could go with panic and augmented with Cat, got further visual confirmation of Volthere's death.</p><p>The monster twitched, to start in his direction, and Lambert turned and ran.</p><p>He tore through the cave, leaping over unstable footing and scraping sideways past stalagmites, standing on the edge of a howling void in his mind that was rushing in his ears and only holding the knowledge that he needed to get <i>away</i>. He didn't know how long it took him to get though the rest of it. Less than twenty minutes, certainly, because he rushed into the light at the end of the cave and was immediately blinded by it. He ran straight into a vaguely humanoid shape and immediately took a swing. Several of his wild blows were deflected, and it was only after he'd been wrestled to the ground and pinned that the roaring in his ears started to fade and he heard a voice.</p><p>"Don't <i>tell</i> me you've gone wild on us, Lambkins," said—fucking <i>Remus</i>. </p><p>Of course it was him. Remus was even more of an asshole than Lambert was, and more standoffish to boot. Of course the one with no friends would live.</p><p>
  <i>Of course the one willing to abandon the others would—</i>
</p><p>"Fuck <i>you</i>," Lambert howled, unearthly, but cracked again in the middle of it. "Fuck you, fuck you, <i>FUCK YOU!</i>"</p><p>"Are you <i>crying?</i>" Remus asked, but there was uneasiness seeping in.</p><p>Lambert couldn't answer, screaming invectives and clawing at the dirt with the hand pinned under his chest. His nails were tearing, little bright sparks of pain, but he didn't care. This had cracked him in a way even the Trial of the Grasses didn't manage—but then again, <i>this</i> time, he had something to lose. Remus held him down until they were both exhausted and the sun was setting on the horizon. Lambert turned his head to look at the other boy. Remus' face was pale with what might actually be horror.</p><p>"None of them?" he whispered.</p><p>"What do you care," Lambert rasped, too tired to lash out physically.</p><p>Remus' face snapped back to cold and haughty.</p><p>"Surely the masters were expecting better of a graduating cohort," he said, moment of openness gone.</p><p>Lambert slowly pulled himself to his feet. Managed to work enough moisture into his mouth to spit at Remus' feet. That was answer enough, for now.</p><p>
  <i>Don't think about it don't think about it don't think about Volthere's head crushed like a—</i>
</p><p>Lambert grabbed the shaped silver hanging around his neck that was to be his Witcher medallion. His broken nails sent little lines of fire up his hand. It was a good enough distraction. He'd get his medallion. He'd become a Witcher. Those goals may have meant absolutely nothing to him now in the face of the yawning pit in front of him, but they were things to do. He was good at doing things.</p><p>He shuffled along the path leading up to the Circle of Elements with his bad hand on his necklace. The trolls of Troll Head were arguing loudly in the distance when they got that far, and sneaking past was a breeze, which was a damn relief. Lambert wasn't feeling up to dealing with that just then.</p><p>They made it up to the altar after full night had fallen. He didn’t let Remus make any snide comments, just banged his to-be medallion down on the altar, lit the torches with a flash of Igni, and began. Remus yelped and almost threw his necklace onto the altar, clearly having expected that Lambert was going to wait for him. The ritual that imbued the medallions with the power that proves them adult Witchers took a while, but Lambert sat in stony silence, cleaning the torn nails on his wounded hand. There was nothing flashy that indicated the medallions were done, but after about an hour Lambert figured it was as imbued as it was going to get. He walked over and scooped the wolf's head up, and pulled it back on. Remus picked up his as well.</p><p>"It'll be easier going down, with these," he said.</p><p>The idea of going back through the cave and across the lake made Lambert fuzz out for a moment.</p><p>"No." he said.</p><p>"No? What do you mean, no?" Remus asked.</p><p>"I'm not going back down through their fucking obstacle course," he said. "There's the mountain pass, that's almost a straight shot. I'm going down <i>that.</i>"</p><p>"But we're supposed to prove that we're—"</p><p>"That we're <i>WHAT??</i>" Lambert yelled. "That we can overcome some completely arbitrary <i>bullshit</i> that they force on us, just to go out and get killed by a couple of drowners trying to earn a couple of coins to buy surówka to stave off scurvy? I am <i>done</i> playing by those rules!"</p><p>Remus was staring at him in what looked like shock. Lambert took a couple deep breaths.</p><p>"Not to mention that Old Speartip's riled. You have any desire to try and deal with that?" he asked. He didn't even know why he was trying to convince Remus, except— <i>the monster broke Travan's leg so the bone was sticking out, he screamed, and it echoed off the cave walls—</i></p><p>He shook his head violently to dispel the thought.</p><p>Remus looked down the mountain, towards Old Speartip's cave.</p><p>"Well, part of being a Witcher knowing when you're not ready to take on a monster…" he said.</p><p>Lambert held back a derisive snort by great will alone.</p><p>"Right," he said harshly. "Let's go."</p><p>He wasn't completely sure how long it took them to get back down using the pass. It simultaneously felt interminably long and gone in the blink of an eye. They came up on Kaer Morhen as the moon was starting up into the sky. Master Vesemir was standing outside by the gates, like the nosy old man that he was. Nevertheless, the sight of their teacher sent a sudden rush of unidentifiable emotion through Lambert. The ringing was rising in his ears again, getting louder as they approached, and they were nearly there when his stomach suddenly lurched.</p><p>
  <i>Ah. Well, one shot, better make it count. </i>
</p><p>Lambert took three steps forward and neatly threw up all over Master Vesemir's boots. Contrary to his every expectation, he felt a large hand, rough with calluses, come down on the back of his neck. The thumb stroked along the side a bit. Things started fading in and out after that, although he caught a few bits of relevant conversation. He may have shut his eyes—he certainly didn't remember seeing anything.</p><p>"... over an hour… just screaming… refused to go back through… ...was fine earlier..."</p><p>He snorted at that and ended up in a hacking fit. He wasn't fine. He may never be fine again.</p><p>“...bottle it… job’s done... safe. ...useful.” </p><p>His arm was slung across Vesemir's back, and Vesemir shifted his hand so he was supporting Lambert around the ribcage.</p><p>"...on, then," he heard, and he was being pulled forward. He stumbled as he tried to keep up, but Vesemir kept him upright.</p><p>They spent some indeterminate period of time limping forward. Probably they ran across at least one other person, because he remembered Vesemir saying "just shocked," to someone.</p><p>He was brought somewhere warm, and Vesemir said, "Sleep."</p><p>He was about to open his mouth to ask how the hell the man thought he was going to fall asleep now, but he slipped sideways into unconsciousness before he could even part his lips. Gods be thanked for once in his life; he didn't dream.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I may add another chapter to this in the future where the poor bastard has to explain what exactly went down to all the teachers, but 1) I'm not looking forward to writing a scene with seven people who all use the same pronouns (gonna be hell to keep track of) and 2) I opened a cabinet and got buried in an avalanche of plot bunnies like Captain Kirk in The Trouble With Tribbles, so those are where my attention's at, currently.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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